writers often reflected in his works the landscapes that surround her dreams and feelings that developed individually in each of those locations. In fact, I read more than a novel that goes with the words this city. Barcelona.
The so-called Barcelona, \u200b\u200bwith such strong buildings and wide avenues which cross, suddenly, are trapped between narrow alleys. Are vigilant in a world that, below, live daily with the hustle and bustle typical of a large capital. The streets, paved in cobblestones that resonate with the footsteps of the people of this century, hide certain magic. If you stop in the center of the movement is really easy to revive people, black and white, have been reflected in hundreds of photographs to admire there. I have recorded on the retina old portraits of beautiful women dressed in corsets and impossible with large sliding down to his feet, and catching the arm of sensitive men with mustaches and black suits. They mark the past of a city that travels in a carriage and leaves voices echo among the buildings.
Today, the Ramblas have a new smell of hot chocolate. It haunting the number of different people who cross the road, the infinite forms of dress or language approach and depart as suddenly. We all have cameras. No matter how many times you've seen the facade of the Lyceum Theatre, or what days has seen the Eastern dragon is on top of that lamppost.
human statues do not change over time. Perhaps there are more, perhaps placed closer together, but remains headless man on the street forget the hat and glasses when eating. Beings terrible and wonderful at the same time.
Even among many other stimuli that things change and certain groups of unknown sign in Catalan your disagree with the change of the reform made in the Ramblas. Is a union that is not every day, the truth is that a family has yet been able to buy a new pet.
But there's more life in the huge avenue. Several florists sell flowers to share with an invisible lover who can teach the world from the beginning. No preprints, teaching him the same clear eyes with which he writes, and guide it through the streets filled with stories and romances.
Later, a few paintings are smeared with charcoal pencil to create impairments or true works of art.
Ramblas The magic of the hatches on the port marks its end. There, the smell of hot food is even stronger, and impeccably white bellies of the seagulls fly over the heads of passersby. Insistently accompanies her singing sea without waves, and that's where I stand out and, with the impossibly tangled hair wind and salt.
(AM)
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